Poetry and fiction by a physicist from the dark side

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The poison spell

The darkness lurking deep among the pines
is that the poison spell that filled your veins?
or dead canaries in the depth of mines?
The rays to cure became our futile chain,
the dwindling days; it was the hairless rope
of smothered tears: in this torrential rain
of fevered chemotherapy: a hope
in purple bottles for your uneasy blood
of winter sparrows or the sound in dope,
in dreams of feather anvils or in floods
of aching bones to take you home; in gloom
of emptiness you left behind, in mud
that cringed with sweat, in screaming rooms
from sorcerers within: your deadly doom.

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17 responses to “The poison spell”

“torrential rain of fevered chemotherapy” – I’m thankful that I’ve never had to experience chemo…and hopeful that I never will, but I understand that it is almost as horrid as the cancer that it fights. Your description, I think, is brilliant.

Knowing I will sound repetitive, I must say this one really is brilliant. All the images of birds combined with such vivid, powerful, and piercing language show me a story of hope that keeps dieing and getting revived.

This speaks to me of someone undergoing cancer treatment. And the poison? Is that the chemo, which is (hopefully) poison to the cancer cells. The way you described it, I surely don’t want to face it..especially when the end may be doom.

What alchemy! “The hairless rope of smothered tears,” that is one astonishing image and wording! This whole thing sounds like a fever dream, where you wake up bathed in sweat, teeth chattering… Amazing, Bjorn. Always glad to see your comments, too.. very helpful. Amy